


Just off the key of reason

by Cardinal_Sin (HU_shipper)



Category: Powerwolf (Band)
Genre: 3d person POV Charles, Charles is no better tbh, Drunken Kissing, Fluff and Crack, Getting Together, M/M, Matthew is a little shit, Spin the Bottle, Truth or Dare, this is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 13:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20154058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HU_shipper/pseuds/Cardinal_Sin
Summary: Because what could be better than being drunk and playing spin the bottle.Oh, that's right. Being forced to confess his feelings for Roel. Fun times.





	Just off the key of reason

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raijin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raijin/gifts).

> soooo I have literally no explanation for this, except I FINALLY wrote something. Yay me. This is absolute madness, it's bad, it's,,,,,,amazing tbh. Enjoy.  
(gifted to my amazing friendo bc he puts up with enough of my bullshit already, this little bit won't hurt. (right??))
> 
> Title from Hum Hallelujah by Fall Out Boy.

Because things couldn’t get any fucking better.

There was something wonderful about that point on tour where everyone stopped giving a fuck about everything, where it was just Matthew dragging Falk off to the bunk area in the most obvious way possible, where drinking and shitty romcoms and lame games actually became a thing.

There was something much less wonderful about how every stupid thing seemed to target Charles specifically.

“It’s your turn, buddy,” Attila snickered, nudging Charles in the side. Charles groaned and reached for the empty beer bottle sitting on the kitchen table. This was the weirdest fucking night of the whole tour, and they usually did weird shit all the time. But playing spin the bottle combined with truth or dare topped the charts easily.

The bottle landed on Matthew. Of course. Charles already dreaded Matthew’s turn to spin; no matter who it would land on, they all would suffer.

“Truth or dare, Matthew?” He sighed, just hoping he would be released from this hell soon.

“Dare,” Matthew grinned, a little cross-eyed from the alcohol. He was obviously waiting for _something good_.

Charles smiled back at him, but there wasn’t any mirth in it. “I dare you to shave your head.”

Everyone fell silent. Matthew stared at him, open-mouthed and red from mute rage. Charles basked in it, finally getting a little satisfaction from this whole catastrophic evening he had only agreed to because Roel had brought him a beer and used his damn puppy eyes and Charles had agreed just to spite the tiny voice in his head that kept yelling at him that this was a terrible idea.

“Come on, dude, that’s not fair,” Falk muttered, a finger casually twirling into a stray lock of Matthew’s auburn bird nest-y mess he called his hair. “Pick another one.”

Charles frowned at them. No fair that Matthew could cheat his way out of it just because he and Falk were a thing. _Maybe_ Charles really wasn’t being fair, but come on, he was bored and uncomfortable, halfway drunk and squeezed between Attila and the wall around the tiny kitchen table. Why couldn’t they just let him have some fun in this miserable shadow of a life?

“Fine,” he grunted, “then… I dare you to drink all the drinks on this table in twenty seconds.”

Matthew stared at the five barely touched glasses of bourbon.

“If I throw up, it’s gonna be all over you, you evil fucker,” he said finally, and beckoned for everyone to pass over their drinks. “Start the clock.”

He actually did it in fifteen. Impressive. _And_ he seemed to be mostly alright, if a little woozy. He smiled a triumphant smile, then stuck his tongue out in Charles’ direction. Real mature of him.

“Oooookay,” he said, then shook his head with a weird expression. “Whew. My turn.”

And of course, _of fucking course_, it had to land on Charles. Fuck.

“You cheated,” Charles accused, even though he knew there was literally no way to cheat in spin the bottle. He wasn’t ready to die, he was far too young to die, especially like this –

“Truth or dare, Charles?” Matthew asked, his voice a mocking rendition of Charles’ previous question. It was useless, 'cause that’s how the game worked: you had to ask the same thing all the time, but alright.

“Truth,” Charles said without hesitation, choosing the lesser evil of the two. He was desperately hoping that Matthew wouldn’t take revenge in such a petty way, that he was too drunk to be petty, anything –

“Do you like Roel?”

What the fuck was this, middle school?

Charles panicked. Matthew knew damn well, damn it, everyone knew except Roel, but this wasn’t going to be the night that would be found out.

“Dare,” he said, glaring at Matthew. Maybe he was actively trying to kill him with his gaze. _Maybe_. Matthew glared back, seemingly having forgotten about the rule that you weren’t supposed to change your pick.

“Fine then. I dare you to kiss Roel.”

“Never have I ever –” Charles half-yelled, but only got that far when Matthew put a hand over his mouth. He bit Matthew’s palm, but he couldn’t do much else, and Matthew grinned at him, cruelty rolling off him in waves.

“That’s not how the game works, dumbass,” he hissed, “now choose: you gonna fess up or you gonna make out with Baldy over there?”

Charles risked a look at him. Roel, that is. He was just sitting there quietly, a new bottle of beer in his hand to replace the bourbon he had lost to Matthew, observing the… The what, exactly? Charles going down in flames, his dignity gone forever? Or Matthew getting his sweet sweet revenge for Charles making him drink quality alcohol? It was a mess, in any case, and Roel didn’t seem to be bothered by it. At all.

Charles dared to look him in the eye. Roel simply raised an eyebrow at him, and Charles felt himself start to blush, all the angrier at everything and everyone. This was terrible, he either had to spill the beans about pining after Roel for years, or he had to make out with him. Both was a nightmare. He could maybe play off the kiss as a casual thing, but the confession? No way. He knew that technically, he could lie, but Matthew would know, everyone would know, even Roel would know because Charles was a terrible liar.

Oh, fuck it.

“Yeah, I’m picking dare. Not in front of you fuckers, though.”

He <strike>climbed</strike> fell across Attila, and stood in front of Roel. This was going to be fine. All fine. He would ask Roel to go with him to the bunk area, and there wouldn’t even have to be a kiss, it was great, it would work. Yeah. Fuck yeah.

“Come, Roel, let yourself be objectified by the ginger idiot,” he said, and nodded his head toward the bunk area. Roel laughed – thank God, so it wasn’t cringey as all hell – and got up, walking close behind Charles until they were out of sight for the other three.

Charles turned to Roel, nervous to face him in the dim, narrow hallway. He had this under control. He knew what he would say, he would tell Roel he’s sorry about this whole mess, he would clarify that there are no confusing and potentially problematic emotions going on, he would –

His thoughts short-circuited as Roel’s hands cupped his cheeks, as his head was tilted upwards, and suddenly Roel was kissing him, mouth hot and urgent on his, definitely feeling like he wasn’t doing this because of some dumb game. Or maybe he was just a great kisser –

Charles sighed a little at the slight burn Roel’s beard left on the sensitive skin around his mouth, and Roel took advantage of that momentary weakness, tongue slipping into Charles’ mouth. _Hell_. That was way past fucking spin the bottle.

They parted, finally, breaths sharp and shallow, and Charles was probably looking like a dumbstruck idiot with beard burn – which he was – because Roel laughed at him, a breathy chuckle that ghosted across his lips and Charles couldn't help a small shiver run down his spine.

“Hi,” Roel said then, smiling dopily. That was…probably not just because of the alcohol.

“Hey there,” Charles whispered. “Sorry, but –”

“Don’t be dumb, Charles,” Roel scolded him. He pressed a kiss in the corner of his mouth to soften the edge of his words. “I obviously like you too.”

Charles felt his knees go weak.

“How do you know I like you? I didn’t even pick truth.”

He was rewarded with another kiss for that. Yeah, he could get used to this. To Roel. Being kissed by Roel. _Fuck_, Roel had kissed him. Roel liked him? What the actual fucking fuck? Was this a dream? It felt like a dream. It felt like the weirdest, most amazing dream, if it was. And if it was reality –

“Am I dreaming?”

“Well, I sure hope not,” Roel purred, and _oh_, that was a new sound. A good sound. “Want me to pinch you to test it?”

Charles laughed at that, a free, bubbling thing that tore up from his chest and left him full of glee and euphoria. He pulled Roel’s face down to him, because fuck it, he could.

“Just kiss me again, idiot.”


End file.
